


Chocolate Box

by caseyvalhalla



Category: Haikyuu!!, Hunter X Hunter, K (Anime), Kingdom Hearts, Kyou Kara Maou!, No. 6 - All Media Types, 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files, 弱虫ペダル | Yowamushi Pedal, 月刊少女野崎くん | Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun
Genre: Blood, Burglary, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mild Language, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, Threesome, Vampires, non-explicit mentions of sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 17,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caseyvalhalla/pseuds/caseyvalhalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dumping ground for all of the various drabbles and ficlets I've left scattered across the internet.  Multiple universes, various pairings, lots of gen, some canon.  See notes and warnings by chapter.</p>
<p>Update 12/28/15: all the chapter titles now read with the pairing and base prompt to make this easier to navigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. cloud and/or leon, time

**Author's Note:**

> For stellareclipses. Prompt: Cloud and/or Leon, Time.

There was an old clocktower above the gadget shop with some old wives' tale attached to it, about the chime of the bells summoning a monster. It was strange enough, he figured, one booted foot rubbing a slow groove into the flagstones beneath him, because Traverse Town wasn't the sort of place where one expected wives to exist long enough to become old, or to spin tales about broken clocks.  
  
There was a piece of philosophy in all of that, something about the relevance of time in a place with no history, and Leon contemplated that with half his attention, arms folded over his knees, the fine hairs on his forearms tickling his nose. The rest of his attention waited and watched, waited for the darkness in patches of shadow to squirm and grow limbs and limpid yellow eyes. Waited for the rattle of false armor, the heavy footfalls of a sick and bloated body, the buzz and hum of a spell powering itself for attack.  
  
Listened for the faint sound of time restarting. Of the clock chiming and the world ending.  
  
At least this time, in this world, he had that much warning.


	2. roxas and axel, sonnet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For mowglimoonshadow. Prompt: Roxas and Axel, sonnet.
> 
> Poetry credit: Sonnet--to Genevra, by Lord Byron.

Roxas had developed a habit of collecting books. It started during assignments, the unpleasant ones where they sliced open the plane between light and darkness and waited until whatever nest of Heartless this produced had consumed the surrounding population. Slow process, sickening at times when Axel paused to actually think about it (which he avoided at all costs).

Roxas, though; he wandered right into the thick of it, Heartless swarming all around him, unconcerned with him as there was food everywhere and he didn't have anything to eat. Wandered into the homes and lives he had just destroyed to rifle through the bookshelves.

At first, he took things that had some manner of practical use. Cookbooks, travelogues for mission research, how-to guides and texts on everything from fixing leaky pipes to particle physics. It proceeded from there to biology, psychology, attempts at understanding the human nature he didn't share; history, biographies, philosophy and self-help. And finally, one day as they hovered together in the living room of a young, happy couple who were now hearts floating up into the sky, while Roxas rifled and Axel didn't think with a fierce determination, he picked up a small, leather-bound book of poetry.

Ten minutes later, Axel had decided that thinking about Roxas rather than anything else was relatively safe; he was considering the way that Roxas's eyebrows drew together when he read, the little indent of skin that formed between them, and started when Roxas abruptly slammed the book closed between his hands.

"This doesn't make any sense!" he announced, scowling down at the little book as though it had deeply offended him. "This--what is this?"

Axel retrieved the book before it was flung away in disgust, turning it over between his fingers to read the cover. "Sonnets," he observed aloud, ignored by his partner who was now pacing into the kitchen and rummaging for something ot eat. He flipped the book open, thumbed through the pages to find whatever it was that had Roxas so upset.

"Thy cheek is pale with thought," Axel read aloud without realizing it, considering the words and the staring he'd been involved in just a moment ago, and wondered if maybe Roxas was overthinking this.

Something rustled sharply in the kitchen and Roxas's voice followed it, low and bitter. "What was that?"

"It's a love poem, Rox." He marked the place with his thumb and lowered the book to his side, watching the entryway into the kitchen until Roxas reappeared in it, all black and blond and blue and limp with exhaustion, curious look on his face and a mesh bag of oranges dangling from his fingers.

"No, you were reading something." Roxas's head tilted to the side, just slightly, curious look still there and wandering over him, down to the book in his hand. "What was it?"

"Nothing."

That curious look turned into a soft frown. "Read it."

Axel sighed, rolling his eyes and lifting the book back up like he was so put-upon to do so, making a display of himself to cover up how unsettling that look was; Roxas's cool, unreadable blue stare. He intended to be flippant about it, at first, but changed his mind at the last second and fell into the poem's rhythm.

"Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe," he began in a murmur, one hand in his pocket, "and yet so lovely, that if Mirth would flush its rose of whiteness with the brightest blush, my heart would wish away that ruder glow and dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes--" he paused there, pacing now, deliberately avoiding any look that Roxas might be giving him, any associations being made, any thoughts worming their way into his mouth. "But oh, while gazing on them sterner eyes will gush, and into mine my mother's weakness rush soft as the last drops round heaven's airy bow." He was walking towards the door now, Roxas was behind him, stare between his shoulderblades like an itch and his voice dropped quiet again, and he half-hoped that Roxas would get bored. Stop listening. This was ridiculous, anyway--

"For though thy long dark lashes low depending, the soul of melancholy gentleness gleams like a seraph from the sky descending, above all pain, yet pitying all distress--" A pause and a swallow, and this really was ridiculous, but his feet stopped moving all the same. "At once such majesty with sweetness blending, I worship more, but cannot love thee less."

The silence in the room, when Axel let the book fall closed between his hands, was so loud he thought he might go deaf with it. The sound of Roxas's boots on the carpet might have been thunder.

"You read that like it means something."

Roxas's voice was soft and almost embarrassed, but before he could shrug it off, before Axel could spin around and make a joke of the whole thing and laugh it all away, the front door opened with a squeak and Roxas stalked through it, into the swarms of darkness and the sparkling non-sound of his Keyblades appearing, because now that the Heartless had finished snacking on the locals it was time for them to die. He was already exhausted and the battle would last into the night, Axel would have to portal them back home and Roxas would fall asleep on his bed while Axel sat on the floor awkwardly and watched his chest rise and fall. Breath and life and, inexplicably, no pulse. A cheek pale with thought even in sleep.

Axel tucked the book in his pocket and followed him.


	3. sora and allen talk about hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For finem. Prompt: Sora and Allen (D.Gray-man) talk about hearts.

"The things you're talking about," the boy said, one gloved hand twining a fork through a plate of spaghetti, "the monsters, the ugly things born from the darkness in people's hearts... I've seen them." Serious gray eyes for a moment, one finger tapping against the fork's silver handle as he regarded Sora, careful measurement of his presence, his posture. Possibly noting things like the callouses the Keyblade left on his hands, the scuffmarks still on his clothes and elbows and knees from fighting. "Not in this town, though. Not yet."

"Huh." Sora huffed, slouched back in the restaurant's booth seat, wondered again at this strange world and whether the Heartless had actually spread this deep into the universe, or if he'd come here chasing shadows. Wondered again why he'd felt that the right thing to do was invade the table of this person who looked too young to be wearing that official-looking coat. He'd felt familiar was all; felt kind of like himself. "Well, that's good news, I guess." There was a fry half-sliding off the plate nearest him; Sora did a good deed and plucked it up before it could fall, and proceeded to chew on it thoughtfully. "Do you fight them, too?"

"I do." The boy had a funny, contemplative smile on his face, digging for another swirl of spaghetti. "It's my job."

Sora felt the grin slide onto his face easily--this world was protected, there were people here ready to fight and hold the darkness at bay. That was really good news. "Mine too." He found another precariously balanced fry, popped it into his mouth. "It would be nice, don't you think," he pondered aloud, because it wasn't every day that he met someone with the same occupation as himself, "if there was a way to keep the darkness from overtaking a person's heart. There's no way to make it disappear entirely, because then we wouldn't be human anymore, would we? But if it could be kept in check, though. That would sure be handy."

"It would be nice," the boy considered, swallowing his spaghetti before continuing. The silverware clanked against the china plate when he set it down, gloved fingers folding together. "But there's no way to stop someone from feeling pain or despair, is there? There's no way to make sure that someone else is always there to keep them from giving in. There's no way that _you_ can always be there to stop them."

Sora paused with another fry between his fingers, grease and grainy salt against his skin, and swallowed. "Yeah."

The boy was watching him again, another long, ascertaining stare before he asked softly, "Did you lose someone?"

He felt the lump congeal in his throat, then loosen enough that he could smile around it. "No. He was strong."

"I'm glad." The boy picked up the fork again, busied himself pulling the remaining spaghetti into a ball at the center of the plate. "If he wasn't, you might have had to--"

"I know."

Sora ate the fry in his hand during the silence that followed, once the lump dissipated, and licked the salt off his fingers. He was considering some of the other plates on the table, wondering why it looked like a banquet spread for ten when the boy seemed to be the only person occupying it, and wondered if he had friends on the way.

With one hand halfway to the fries again, he paused when the boy's voice intoned abruptly, "Oh, and one more thing."

Sora blinked, hand hovering. "Huh?"

The boy tilted his head forward, silver bangs throwing his face into shadow and he was sure, for just a moment, that something flickered red in the depths where his eyes should be. "STOP EATING MY FOOD."

"A-Ah, sorry, is this plate yours, too?"

"They're _all_ mine."

"R-right." Sora trailed off, looking over the laden table again while his stomach growled in protest. He laughed nervously, backing away from the fries and reached to the side suddenly, one hand out and waving. "Waiter!"


	4. roxas, axel, and a rubber chicken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For mistyeyedreamer. Prompt: Roxas, Axel, and a rubber chicken!

Axel wasn't sure how many blinks it would take before the image of Roxas standing in front of him, brandishing a rubber chicken like a shield, would remove itself from his vision and disappear back into the void where it clearly belonged. Roxas and comedic props did not belong together, in the same general space, in any instance within any sane dimension.

So he blinked, several times, and then said very carefully (in case he was dreaming, or one or both of them had finally lost their minds completely) and said, "Roxas... what the hell are you doing?"

Roxas narrowed his eyes, holding the rubber chicken just slightly higher as though to emphasize its presence. "I researched it this time. This is supposed to be funny." He said this with a tone that stubbornly wondered why this wasn't immediately obvious to Axel--apparently, he took the rubber chicken very, very seriously.

"O... kay."

"It's funny," Roxas reiterated, lips pulling down into a scowl (and if that continued, Axel knew, his eyebrows would drop, his teeth would clench, and then he would probably cause pain to whatever was nearest and available, because Roxas didn't like it when people failed to understand whatever train of logic his little Nobody brain was conducting.) "You're supposed to laugh."

Axel blinked some more, but Roxas and Roxas's scowl and the rubber chicken were still there. "Um. Ha ha?"

He figured, a moment later, that he probably deserved having a rubber chicken smashed into his chest (and figured he was lucky that Roxas wasn't tall enough to reach his face) but what disturbed Axel, more than the prop that fell into his hands and the stomp of booted feet moving past him was the fact that that scowl hadn't done what he expected. He was pretty sure he saw, before Roxas jerked his hood back up to storm away, that scowl turning into a small unhappy frown. Roxas's eyes turning to the floor in something that could almost be called sadness.

Axel caught him by the shoulder before he could disappear, down the hall or into a portal. "Hey, Rox. What is this all about?"

"Nothing," was the quick snap, jerk of movement that removed the shoulder under his hand. Lighter stomps, swish of black leather as he moved further away.

Something small and quiet, a little more distant, almost lost under the warp and swirl of a portal opening. "Just thought I could make you feel something, that's all."


	5. sora/roxas/axel, who the hell are you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For zumerokkata. Prompt: Sora/Roxas/Axel, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

Sneaking into someone else's house should probably not have been as easy as this. Axel figured, anyway, although he had the advantage of knowing one of the occupants, and having the choice information of which potted plant the spare key was under. Still, he figured--very slowly closing the kitchen door behind himself and letting the latch slide back into place--it probably shouldn't be this easy.

He'd expected to trip an alarm or attract the unwanted attention of a family pet. Anything. Some excitement.

Oh well.

He toed his shoes off at the door and proceeded sock-footed for stealth, stubbing his toes a minimum of four times in the dark, unfamiliar house before he found the stairs. He scanned the upstairs hallway while still cursing the names of various furniture under his breath, and his eyes lit on a bedroom door with bright yellow caution tape criss-crossed over its surface. That _had_ to be it.

He peeked inside first, just to make sure that the interior matched the door's teenage nature, and was sufficiently wallpapered in band posters and carpeted with discarded clothing. The window was open to let in the summer breeze and in the moonlight, sure enough, there was a lump of blankets in the center of an unmade bed; a shock of spiky hair poking out near the pillow and one bare foot dangling over the edge were all he could see of its occupant.

Jackpot.

Sure of himself now, evil toe-stubbing furniture forgotten, Axel quietly closed the door and navigated the teenage minefield of a bedroom with practiced ease (takes one to know one, after all). Sneaking under the sheets without disturbing the sleeper was a bit more difficult, but well worth it when Axel was finally in a position to slip an arm around his waist, press up against that small familiar body (in nothing but boxers ohyes) and nuzzle the back of his neck, the fine hairs down below the spikes. He planted a few soft kisses there, fingers caressing soft belly skin, chuckling as the body against his stirred. "Hm. Found you, Sora."

Axel received a grunt in response, then a pause as he pressed a little closer and kissed a little more eagerly, then finally a sudden jerk, a painful fist in his shoulder followed swiftly by another to the jaw alongside the ear-piercing shriek of "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

A light went on somewhere to the side and Axel blinked in it, blinked the stars out of his eyes from being unexpectedly slugged (twice!) and realized, upon clearing his line of sight, that he'd been shoved off the bed onto the floor, and was staring up at a bedside lamp and a very blond boy who was very much not Sora, holding a sheet demurely over himself.

The blond, it should be noted, was also very, very pissed.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

Axel grunted, opened his mouth and worked his jaw around to make sure it wasn't broken, then scowled at his attacker and spat, "Who the hell are _you_?"

"What do you mean _who am I_? THIS IS MY BED!"

"It wasn't supposed to be!"

"You were _licking my neck_!"

Axel was saved from any further nonsensical arguments with the inexplicable but very pissed blond on the bed by the door bursting open to admit Sora, wide awake and wielding a baseball bat like some kind of weird sword. He skidded to a halt just inside, noting Axel on the floor, and the blond on the bed with his sheet, and putting two and two together to get three, because clearly this equation was the work of a D student.

And when that was done, he lowered the bat, grinned a little sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "Ahaha. Hi, Axel."

"You _know_ him?" The blond hissed, but continued without waiting for an answer, one hand pointing down at Axel and his rapidly bruising jaw in accusation. "You want to explain to me why he was _in my bed licking my neck_ , Sora?"

"Ah..."

"You _decked_ me," Axel added in his own defense, slapping the pointing finger out of his face. " _Twice_."

"YOU WERE GROPING ME!"

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE _HIM_!" Axel indicated Sora with his own finger for a moment before returning to favoring his jaw, staring Sora down along with the blond, waiting for some kind of explanation other than a nervous laugh.

"So um." Sora tapped the bat against his toes, still with that ohshit-I'm-so-dead grin on his face. "Axel. Did I ever tell you I had a twin brother?"


	6. hayner, luxord, poster of Jesse McCartney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combo prompt fill! For aerodactylus, prompt: Luxord, something other than gambling or being British; and sallyprue, prompt: Hayner, Luxord, poster of Jesse McCartney.

"No." He said it again, firmly, leaning all his weight on the plywood counter, one hand tapping a single dart against it over and over. It was a habit, he'd discovered; something stress-related that developed not long after he took this job and the more it happened the more it meant it was probably time to quit.

The last time he'd attempted such, Xemnas (in his infinite wisdom and patience) had kicked him out of his office trailer on his ass, informing him in pleasant, dulcet tones that he was too good at his job to quit, and he should stop expressing such ridiculous notions.

This kid, though. This kid was going to piss him off. Luxord had already informed his boss that if any bodies were ever found riddled with carnival darts, he was not to be held responsible.

"This game is rigged," the kid said again (far too loudly and he was starting to scare off potential suckers. Players. Standing there all sure of himself in camos and blond hair styled in one of those ridiculous ways kids styled their hair these days. The brat had a pout that made him look like he'd be more in place in the back row of a boy band. "I want another round, or I'm going to report you."

Luxord considered this with eyebrows raised, and gave the plywood counter a particularly vicious stab. "To who, precisely?"

The kid just scowled, and it just darkened steadily as Luxord watched. No movement, no words; that was some kind of skill, just killing the natural light around yourself for dramatic effect.

After several minutes of this, Luxord let out a world-weary sigh, gesturing back towards the wall behind him, plastered with miniature versions of posters that were piled in bins behind the counter. It was a simple enough game, simple enough scam--you gave some schmuck four darts for five bucks and let him throw them, and on the off-chance one of the darts happened to stick in the wall that was deliberately too hard--you had to aim really well and throw really hard to accomplish this--Luxord then handed over a two-dollar poster. There was no way to not profit. It was beautiful.

At some point, though, this kid figured out he'd just spent two times the value of his prize trying to hit one particular target, a nicely photographed glossy of some pop singer Luxord didn't care to know the name of, and it was towards this that his hand waved now. "What is it with you and this guy, anyway? You want to sing backup for him, is that it? Think the girls will fancy you if you're secure enough to think other boys are pretty? What?"

He didn't think it would be possible, but the scowl on the kid's face became even darker. Luxord was willing to bet he could make sparks shoot from his eyes. He grinned, and it wasn't pleasant. He didn't like losing the persnickety ones just because they were too reluctant to dig their wallets out a fifth time.

The grin was all teeth. "Tell me," Luxord said, voice smooth and promising, like the devil proposing that everything really would be all right, everything will get better from here on, just sign your name on the dotted line, there. That's right. "And I'll give you another round."

The dart bore into the plywood in a slow, agonizing twist.

The kid kept scowling for another second, maybe, but then his attention dropped to somewhere closer to the ground and from that angle the scowl looked more like a pout. His voice was almost too low to hear, but Luxord had always been good at hearing things that weren't meant to be heard.

"He just... reminds me of someone I know." There was a husk to the kid's voice that read volumes into the actual words, whether he realized it or not. "That's all."

"Hm." Luxord pulled the dart out of the counter with a _pop_ , grin spread wide over his face and reached out, opening his palm to the kid to reveal four darts, ready and waiting for another attempt. There were so many things he could have said, but the grin said them all at once in a cruel mockery, knowing and displaying it all without apology.

If the brat missed again, he'd give him the goddamn poster.


	7. akuroku, smoking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to "Crossed Fire" by munspeak: http://munspeak.tumblr.com/post/45055176783/crossed-fire

Roxas didn’t care for the smell of tobacco until he met Axel.

At some point it stopped being important that it was supposedly unhealthy because staring at Axel with his shirt off and his pants slung low on his hips was more likely to asphyxiate him than a breath of secondhand, whether it was curling from the smoldering cigarette dangling between Axel’s long, lithe fingers or the light, thin stream exhaled between slightly pursed lips.

He stood in Axel’s way, between the kitchen and the balcony, because it wasn’t possible to simply look at the jut of Axel’s hipbones without pressing his thumbs into the soft indents above his waistband.  Axel just chuckled, cigarette held to the side and smoke exhaled somewhere above his head, ducking down and to the side just enough to nip at Roxas’s ear.  ”I’ll be right back.  Don’t go anywhere.”

“What do you want for dinner?” was all he could think to ask, turning just so he could watch Axel for every possible second before he faded out through the balcony door and under the stars.

“Doesn’t matter.  Order something.”

Roxas bit his lower lip, pressed his tongue against his teeth.  ”What do you want for dessert?”

Axel chuckled, glowing embers and smoke in the night air.


	8. rikuroku, inside out by eve 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For thirteendaze on Tumblr. Prompt: Inside Out by Eve 6, Roxas/Riku.

Being grounded for the first three weeks of senior year didn’t actually stop a number of problems that Roxas’s parents thought he had.  It didn’t stop him from packing five across into the back seat of Isa’s late-model Lincoln Continental during morning break and rushing through the cigarette and a half that it was possible to finish before they pulled back into the school parking lot in time for third period.  It didn’t stop him from sneaking back out of the house after he got off a late shift at the Dairy Queen to go do a line of shots at Sora’s place.  And it definitely didn’t stop him from seeing the people that his parents thought he shouldn’t be seeing, since they were all at school with him, and it wasn’t like his parents were going to ground him from high school.

It was easy to stalk Riku through the halls, since he was nearly as freakishly tall as Axel and his hair was possibly even more unmistakable.  It helped that he had Riku’s schedule memorized, of course, and that his own fourth period was exactly three rooms further down the senior hall.  And he knew that if he left exactly two minutes after the bell rang, he could usually get up about five feet behind Riku without the other noticing his presence.  If he waited three minutes, there was enough of a crowd in the hall that Riku wouldn’t notice him at all until it was too late.

It was a three minute day.

To be fair, he did give Riku a warning.  A stern and just loud enough “Incoming!” before he made the jump directly onto Riku’s back, arms around his shoulders, legs locking around his waist.

And to be fair, with about six months since the day Roxas had stood in front of him and his locker with his arms crossed and his mouth chiseled in a defiant scowl and stared for about five minutes before finally looking away down the hall and muttering something about asteroid movies and popcorn… Riku was used to this kind of abuse.

"Cafeteria," Roxas murmured, resettling his arms for comfort.  "Go."

"It’s too hot for this."  Riku always had to protest at least once, head tilted just enough that he could barely see Roxas over his shoulder.  "Seriously.  I think the overhead slides in my last class were melting."

"Giddyup, motherfucker."

And then Riku grumbled, sighed, tugged his hair out from under the places Roxas’s arms were pulling it too much.  Readjusted his messenger bag so it was out of the way.  Hooked his arms under Roxas’s knees and started walking.  ”You suck.”

"Didn’t hear you complaining Friday night."

"OH, you—fuck, no.  Stop.  That’s not what I meant.  You KNOW that’s not what I meant."

Roxas chuckled against the back of his neck.  Pressed a tiny kiss there when no one was looking, silver hair catching on his lips.  Listened to Riku pout the rest of the way down the hall.  Listened to him grimace when Sora caught sight of them and ran to catch up just so he could walk beside them and mime riding a horse until Riku made good use of his extra load to shoulder Sora into the lockers.

It was only about five minutes, really, until Riku announced “We’re here!” and unceremoniously dumped him onto their lunch table.  ”I’m getting some fries.  You want anything?”

He pretended to be grumpy, but he wasn’t really.  There was only so much you could get away with at school, after all; only so much contact you could have with another person in a certain way before people started having problems with it.  Or teachers started giving you pink slips.

Roxas tugged on his arm, not letting him go to get in line just yet. “You’re such a good horse.”

"I hate you."

"Hm."  Roxas leaned forward, sliding off the table, and let his mouth turn up into just a hint of a smile.  Something no one else would see.  Something that would reflect on Riku’s face after a second or two.

"No you don’t."


	9. akuroku, pure morning by placebo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For xigheart on Tumblr. Prompt: Pure Morning by Placebo.

It took Axel about five minutes, possibly longer, to realize that the abstract art less than a foot in front of his face when he opened his eyes was actually the underside of his boxspring.  And that he was, in fact, sleeping under his own bed.  The reasons for this probably had to do with the way the light creeping across the carpet stung his eyes and how his head swished around like it was full of water when he tried unsuccessfully to roll over.  So for another five to ten minutes, he lay there and stared up at his boxspring and tried to get to the point where he could think thoughts.

His housemates had thrown a party, that was it.  And that was fine with Axel, so long as no one decided to break into his room and break into his stash or the small but tasteful collection of hard liquor he kept on the shelf under his turntable, or have a fuck on his bed.  If he didn’t get to have a fuck on his own bed once in a while, then like hell anyone else was going to.  So in a general sense, parties were often spent either in his room or guarding the door, chatting with all of the people who inevitably crowded into the upstairs hallway looking for a bathroom or a bowl or somewhere to get naked.  He offered directions in the first case, a bong in the second, and thumbed randomly down the hallway in the third.  Not this room, thanks.

It was strange, though, that not only had he apparently partaken in the various available party goods to the point where he couldn’t quite remember everything that happened yet, but that apparently he had somehow  _fallen asleep under his bed._   But he decided, after another five to ten minutes of sorting out the sludge in his head, that after some burnt toast and coffee some things might come back to him.

And so it was that Axel was about halfway through the process of crawling out from under his bed and into the unfortunate glaring light on his carpet when his bed abruptly gave a jerk, seemingly of its own accord—at least, seemingly so until it was promptly accompanied by a rough and startled and very male “What the  _fuck_?”

It took the full amount of time that Axel required to prop himself onto his elbow and roll partway onto his hip so that he could look up towards the top of his bed (which was where, by all rights, he  _ought_  to be) for him to realize that there was someone in his bed.  That someone had just jumped and exclaimed at the sight of him suddenly appearing from underneath it and was now staring down at him in something between abject horror and adorable uncertainty.

And, after Axel had the opportunity to rub his eyes, squint, and adjust to the horrific sunlight, he realized that the someone on his bed was small and lithe and very, very blond and very, very naked under that sheet, and that he might still be high on something because he was pretty sure that shade of blue did not actually exist in nature.  Or at least not as a human eye color.

The next layer of thought progression occurred as Axel’s hand, having rubbed his eyes, continued down his face to rub his mouth and jaw, at which point he realized that he had an incredibly clear memory of those eyes looking up at him from somewhere around his waist, and that said memory was immediately followed upon by another in which he had both of his hands buried in that very, very blond hair.

And around the time he muttered a semi-coherent “Th’fuck?” he realized that the guy on his bed was not only blond and blue-eyed and naked but was also holding his last bag of weed up and to the side as though either protecting it from whatever monstrosity was emerging from under the bed or preparing to take it hostage.

And that was pretty much the entire tableau of Axel’s room for the next five to ten minutes.

In retrospect, Axel was glad for the pause.  It gave his brain the opportunity to figure out that the worst thing he could possibly do in this moment was to ask the guy who he was and what he was doing in his bed.  Because that was simply not something that you said to someone who was naked in your bed and whom you had at least some memory of giving you what was probably a fantastic blowjob.  That was just rude.

So after that five to ten minutes, he let his hand drop off of his chin and back onto the floor and said, “What are you doing?”

Naked Blond Guy stared at him in disbelief for what might have been a second or half of a year, because clearly, Axel was the one crawling out from under his own bed.  What was  _he_  doing?  After that protracted second, though, the guy looked like he was swallowing, looked less horrified and less uncertain and more defiant, or possibly just grouchy.  And muttered, “I thought you ditched me, so I was going to jack your stash.”  He lowered his arm and shrugged a little, and Axel was pretty sure he’d never seen a grouchy expression look that much like a pout.  ”Or I guess I was going to smoke some of it first, and then jack it, and maybe leave you a note about working on your technique.”

Axel flexed his jaw a bit, reconsidering how it felt kind of sore and that there was another very explicit memory floating around in the back of his mind about what Naked Blond Guy’s voice sounded like when he was moaning Axel’s name.  ”Well,” he sighed, mentally congratulating himself for asking the right question and not the wrong one, “if it was that bad, I could always give you another demonstration.”

If the Naked Blond Guy could smile, right now, Axel figured this could be the best hangover he’d ever had.

And on the bed, Roxas looked down at the guy who’d just crawled out from under it with his sex hair and his droopy hangover eyes and his sleepy cocksure smirk, and couldn’t stop himself.


	10. soriku, 100th post

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabble written for my 100th post on Tumblr. Riku/Sora.

He likes that Sora doesn’t bother to tone himself down, no matter what setting they’re in, whether he’s on his knees in front of the television with a controller in his hand, swaying dangerously from side to side and cursing like a well-traveled sailor, thumbs mashing furiously, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth when he gets to the endgame, brow furrowed, engaged and silently intense.

Whether they’re tucked in a corner at the Olive Garden after Sora had a few too many breadsticks and a couple of glasses of the fruity, fizzy wine that he likes and no idea of his speaking volume, and Riku just grins because everyone’s looking at them and Sora’s emphatic recreation of a scene from Avengers using his water glass, all four of their forks and the dessert menu, and Riku imagines that all of the people staring are seething green with envy because  _they_  don’t have a date as charming and funny and precociously attractive as  _he_  does.

Whether they’re at Rumors and Sora has a death grip on his hand, palms sweating, tugging him away from the arcade and out onto the dance floor, shaking glitter out of his hair and laughing because he can’t dance, never could, but Riku watches him anyway, the way he wriggles around until everyone in the vicinity is giving them a wide berth, leaving him room to coax his boyfriend into something more subdued while the regulars snicker and clap him on the back.

"You’ve got a handful, there," they tell him, and sometimes they mean it to be condescending and sometimes they mean it as a joke, but Riku always responds the same way.

"Yeah.  I do."  With a private smile, because Sora loved with the same intensity as he did everything else, and Riku was the only one who knew.


	11. akuroku, forgetting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introlude to my 8/13 project on tumblr: 31daysofakuroku.tumblr.com

On the day that Roxas left, Axel could still remember everything.  The way Roxas’s body, small but strong enough to flip him onto his back should the whim strike Roxas to take control, fit perfectly in his arms, against his body, under, over, around and inside.  The specific smell of the skin on Roxas’s neck.  The soft, deep quality that his voice only took on in the dark gray pre-dawn hours in the morning after a long night in bed.  He could remember everything, every detail with a sharp and painful intensity, like a thin, hollow needle through his nonexistent heart.  It stabbed him repeatedly but it wouldn’t kill him, and at first that was the worst part.

He should have known, he would tell himself later.  He of all people should have known how fickle and unreliable  _memory_  could be.

It wasn’t until he realized he could no longer remember the precise sensation of dragging his finger along the dip of Roxas’s spine that he realized he hadn’t hit bottom yet.  He spent his days following Sora, making plans, steeling himself for what he would have to do (which took more effort than he thought it would considering all that he’d already done) and at night he ran his fingertips over empty sheets.  Brushed his nose against a pillow, tried to remember the taste of Roxas’s hair under his lips, the rough curl of his feet against the back of Axel’s calves, how his name sounded when Roxas’s head tipped back—was it a breathy whine, or more of a husky whimper?

Forgetting was the worst part.  (And there was always a nagging sensation in the back of his mind he’d forgotten something else particularly important.)

Then he started losing the big things—the taste of Roxas’s mouth, the feel of his cheek when Axel rubbed his own against it.  The exact color of his eyes when he was so close to the edge that his body shook with it.  The angle of his eyebrows when Axel’s head was pillowed on his bicep and Roxas’s fingers were in his hair and he _stared_  like Axel was a puzzle he was trying to sort out.  The sharp, black curve of his back when they were sitting on the clocktower and he was bent over an ice cream bar.  It was when he forgot the specific way that the smell of ice cream would cling to Roxas long after they left Twilight Town for the night, the way Roxas would drag Axel to his room and strip down and tumble onto his bed and still smell like the stuff, like he’d finally eaten so much of it that it was a part of his being, and when Axel pretended to complain he laughed conspiratorially from behind a pillow, mouth hidden but eyes curved into crescents—that was the memory that finally broke him.  A thousand pieces of shadow that shouldn’t have even been able to feel it.

He thought that when he looked up into Sora’s face, into the shock and concern there, that he might be able to see Roxas for a second.  A flash of colder blue, a flicker of pain and loss.  He thought he did.  He might have.  But in the end, all he was sure of was a small voice that might have come from Sora or from somewhere in his head.  Something small and sad and vaguely female.

_Was it worth it?  Being in love?_

Axel closed his eyes, felt his existence tremble and crumble away.

_No._


	12. akuroku, temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of context Paradise Lost-ish angel/demon temptation almost-porn written ages ago for a fic that never manifested, posted to my 8/13 project blog for day 12 to appease the masses.

"Did you know," Axel said without expecting any answer, voice slithering over Roxas’s skin in shivering tendrils of sound.  The voice was for him, despite the fact that both of them had their eyes fixed on Sora, the boy watching enrapt, eyes huge and blue and staring back at Roxas while he pleaded silently.   _Don’t listen, look at me, stay with me_.  “That your body has a memory, too?”

Axel said it with a smile, silver tongue pulling back between his teeth.  “It’s not the same as what your mind remembers.  Your mind sorts things in logic and order, it’s proper and civilized.  Your body remembers on instinct.  It’s more…  _honest_  that way.”

Sora’s eyes were darting away from Roxas now, watching Axel and the way he talked, the way he moved with a lazy, sliding grace, hands hooked in his pockets.  The way his attention was shifting, the way he was moving towards Roxas.

"If you’re burned by a fire," Axel continued, voice musing over itself like a professor at lecture, explaining a concept by metaphor, "the next time you feel an intense heat, you’ll move away without even having to think about it.  Your flesh remembers the pain, remembers the danger, and acts without need for conscious thought."

Roxas remained focused.  All his energy on Sora, all his attention in a cloud of peace around the boy until those blue eyes turned away from Axel and back to him.  He stood like a rock, an anchor to keep them strong.  He pulled in a breath, felt Sora falling back into his control just for that moment, that breath.

But when Axel spoke again, he was far, far too close.

"It can remember other things too, though, Sora," he said, voice rough with breath and unspoken promises.  He was too close, slipping around behind Roxas as he spoke.  "Things like… pleasure."

Sora’s mouth was falling open, something curious and confused in his eyes as he watched them both, now.  Axel invading Roxas’s space.  Chuckling, somewhere just behind his left ear and the vibration of the sound made goosebumps rise on Roxas’s neck.

"It remembers, for example," Axel paused just long enough to raise both hands and rest them palm flat on Roxas’s shoulders, slide them down slowly to curl around his arms.  So, so light and Roxas pressed his lips together, swallowed, fought the way his skin tingled.  "The touch of familiar hands."

Axel was so close behind him now that Roxas could feel the heat at his back, the breath on his neck.  He beat down a shiver, pulled a slow breath that wanted to tremble, swallowed against the feel of hands still stroking slowly, lightly, up and down his arms.

"The warmth of a body," Axel murmured, shifting forward just slightly, so close they would touch if one of them breathed.  So close his mouth was damp heat a hair’s breadth from Roxas’s neck.  "The press of a kiss."

He refused to whimper, clamped his teeth down on his tongue to prevent it but this close Axel could feel how his body was trembling, feel the flush of heat when he trailed his lips over Roxas’s neck, tickling the fine hairs below his ear, hands moving from Roxas’s arms to his waist, one teasing at the curve of his hip and the other slipping under his shirt to spread fingers over the soft skin beneath.  Sora’s eyes were wide and blue and staring with awe and interest and that was the last thing Roxas saw before his eyes slid closed and his knees turned to water.

"When your body has known another’s touch," Axel was saying, words brushing against his earlobe and the sensitive flesh behind it, "it remembers that person, always.  Even if you turn your mind against them."  Axel smirked against his ear, teased fingers along the line of his waistband.  "Even if you swear  _never again_  for the rest of eternity.”  His tongue darted out, traced the shell of Roxas’s ear at the same time his thumb dipped down just behind the button of his pants, fingernail drawing an electric line over his skin and his voice was shivering heat, slithering liquid ecstasy.  “Even then, your body has its own will, and only remembers how  _good_  it felt.”

It was hot and sudden, Axel’s hands going rigid, pulling him back, body hard and soft and pressed tight against him and his mouth on Roxas’s neck, right there, right where it felt best, wet heat and just enough of a pull between his teeth to send a bone-deep shudder through Roxas’s body, nearly limp in his arms.  There was a moan in his chest that begged for release; a shiver in his muscles that demanded he let his head drop on Axel’s shoulder, let his back arch, let his body press into the hands painting lines of heat over his skin; a perfect, clear memory in the front of his mind of warm skin and cold sheets and shivering darkness and the feel of Axel inside him like every sin mankind had ever committed.  Roxas fought it, all of it, bit his lip and clenched his fists and beat back every little tingle that raced over his nerves.

And then, slowly, it relaxed.  Axel’s hands softening, body relenting, mouth pulling away, leaving behind the echos of feeling and the acute longing for more and oh, there was a reason he’d become temptation incarnate after The Fall.  Roxas’s eyes opened a bare slit, just enough to see Sora there, hands twisted together, tongue wetting his lips.

Axel’s voice was all breath, so low and hot that it was meant for no one else, lips pressed softly to his ear.  “Isn’t that right, Roxas?”


	13. akuroku, coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8/13 project day 13, written for the following prompt:
> 
> "I know you and I/are not about poems or/other sentimental bullshit/but I have to tell you/even the way you drink your coffee/knocks me the fuck out."--Clementine von Radics

It wasn’t anything special, what they had.  Roxas told himself that often, whenever he woke up to an empty bed or brushed past Axel somewhere on campus with barely an acknowledgement between them.  It wasn’t special.  They weren’t in a relationship, or dating, or even really friends.  They just tended to run into each other some evenings and weekends, at parties or shows or bar crawls and a few times just climbing around on the sky-viewing sculpture in Red Square at two in the morning.  Neither of them lived on campus anymore and had no reason to be there, but they were and Roxas caught himself huffing his way up High Street sometimes if his party-bust senses were tingling and waiting there under the top point of the open black cube, wondering if Axel would appear.

But it wasn’t anything special.

It wasn’t that they never talked, since their respective circles of friends converged at several points and Roxas always kept his ears open in case Xion or Sora or Demyx had some news or gossip about Axel.  He expected sometimes to hear about him hooking up with someone else, or that he was legitimately dating some cute thing that any guy with half a brain would jump at the chance to date.  Roxas had steeled himself for it, sure that it would happen one day.  But it hadn’t so far.  People who knew Axel referred to him as a free agent but never commented on whether or not he was getting around.  But they never mentioned Axel disappearing for the night with Roxas, either, so he told himself that Axel was just successfully discrete about this thing.

Because it wasn’t anything special, so of course Axel would be flirting with other people, macking on other people, sleeping with other people.  Roxas just accepted this as fact, whether he had any evidence of it or not.

It wasn’t that they never saw each other outside of their brief campus encounters or their late-night exploits, either.  Axel arrived at the student union Starbucks every morning at 7:30 sharp for his double tall hazelnut latte with extra whip and never approached the counter until Roxas was there to take his order, had even let almost a dozen other sleepy unfortunates with 8am classes go in front of him so he could step up and give Roxas a lopsided grin while he punched in the order before Axel even said a word.

“Life’s too short to be up this early, Blondie.”

Axel never called him by his name.  Roxas wondered once in a while if he even knew it.  “I’m not even going to argue with that logic.”

“And that’s why neither of us are philosophy majors.”

Axel waited, every day, to have essentially the same ten-second conversation.  He thought Roxas didn’t notice, but he did.

What Axel didn’t notice was that every day after he got his latte from the pick-up counter, Roxas would watch him through the long stems of the syrup pumps.  Watched him give the cup a few good swirls before taking a cautious sip, eyes slipping closed like he’d just tasted the nectar of the gods, then jerking back and hissing when it was still too hot.  It was the same, every day, and Roxas never got tired of watching it.

But what they had, it wasn’t special.

He could find his way to Axel’s apartment falling down drunk in the pitch dark, knew each step up the side of the old converted townhouse in the university ghetto and how you had to jiggle the key in the lock a bit to get the door to open.  He knew what that door felt like against his back, and the carpet, and the table, and the couch, and the counter over the dishwasher.  He knew the smell of Axel’s bed and the squeak of the springs, knew that he kept a supply of porn magazines and KY under the upper left corner of the mattress.  He knew the cold scratch of Axel’s fingernails, the warmer pinch of his teeth, how his fingers kneaded at his skin like he meant to give Roxas a full-body massage as much as he meant to fuck him senseless.

He knew the way that Axel stared, sometimes, eyes at half-mast, dark green in the dim light from the desk lamp, and how when he did that it was slow, like Axel wanted to drive him wild just pushing inside him, just watching Roxas arch his back and breathe  _please please_  at him, knew what his kisses felt like when they were soft and gentle, when he whispered things against Roxas’s neck that he pretended he didn’t hear because Axel was drunk and he was overly buzzed and what they had wasn’t special.

It wasn’t.

But sometimes afterwards Roxas would catch his breath slowly and whine, “God, why do you do this to me.”

And Axel would roll onto his elbows and peer at him mischievously over his own shoulder and purr, “You made my coffee too sweet.”

And then sometimes on mornings when it was cold and rainy or Roxas just felt cold and rainy and maybe, secretly wished that their nothing special was actually _something_ , he would accidentally put an extra pump of hazelnut in Axel’s cup, and watch to see that little curl of a smile on the corner of his mouth after he tasted it.


	14. akuroku, bathtub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8/13 project day 19, written to accompany nijukoo's Addiction: http://nijuukoo.tumblr.com/post/60306252248/813-month-day-30-addiction-word-prompt-from

Working graveyards was a bitch.  That was all Axel had to say about it, but unfortunately he had bills, and student loans for a degree that was sitting around gathering dust while he guarded a cell phone retailer for a couple of bucks over minimum wage, and a boyfriend that he barely saw anymore because of his hours who lit up like a Christmas tree whenever Axel appeared with movie tickets or takeout or a small wrapped package.  So Axel worked from sundown to sunrise and wandered around in a daze on his days off (inconveniently in the middle of the week) and tried to connect with Roxas as often as possible.

So naturally, when Roxas finally had a break from school Axel made for his apartment at breakneck speed and spent the afternoon throwing chicken and vegetables into a crockpot for their dinner, chilling a six-pack of their favorite microbrew, and strewing rose-petals around the master suite.  Maybe it was cheesy, but he missed getting to be unexpectedly romantic.  And he hadn’t gotten laid in nearly a month.

Unfortunately, he forgot one crucial thing, and only remembered when he stepped into the candlelit bathroom in nothing but a towel, two open beers in hand and an anticipatory grin on his face, to find Roxas sitting among the bubblebath suds, hunched over his DS.

“Hey babe,” Axel purred, slipping into the water behind him and passing a beer over his shoulder.  “Done with that yet?”

“Gimme a minute.”  Roxas took the beer absently and immediately set it on the edge of the tub.  Axel’s fingers brushing over his shoulders went unnoticed.

Roxas as a gamer wasn’t that bad in a general sense, Axel had to admit.  He had enough self-control to focus on his studies when the school year was in full swing, and he did have plenty of other hobbies and even left the house when prompted.  Unfortunately, when he was on break from school, his modus operandi was to immediately bury himself nose-deep in whatever games he had to put off in favor of homework.

Axel was patient, at first.  Maybe a little bit long-suffering, because really, he put up with too much from this boy and still fucking adored him.  He didn’t want to sit here on the one day they had together in a month and have to compete with Zelda.

He gave Roxas a minute, as requested, taking a few long pulls from his bottle before setting it carefully aside.  He tilted his head, letting his breath tease over Roxas’s neck, thumbs rubbing gently between his shoulderblades.  Subtle promises.  “How about you find a save point, babe.”

“Working on it,” Roxas mumbled, eyes wide and completely focused on the screen.

Axel took a look at what he was actually playing (he was right, it was Zelda) and made sure he wasn’t in the middle of a battle before planting a few slow, soft kisses on Roxas’s shoulder.  “Pretty sure I’m hotter than Link.”

“Mmm,” was Roxas’s noncommittal response.

“Pretty sure that thing suspends your game if you close it,” Axel hummed, moving up towards his neck, slowly.  He’d give Roxas the chance to put the DS down of his own accord before pulling out the big guns.

“Yeah, yeah, almost there.”  Roxas’s head tilted automatically, body leaning to assure his vision didn’t become obstructed by Axel’s hair.

Fortunately, just like the level bosses in his video games, Roxas had a weakness.  And Axel knew exactly where it was.  He approached it slowly, teeth scraping against soft skin, tongue brushing up along the tendon that led to Roxas’s ear.  And there, on the tender dip between Roxas’s earlobe and the line of his hair, Axel pressed his lips, and sucked.

He saw Roxas’s thumbs pause and twitch against the controls, heard his breath hitch low in his throat, felt the way his body tensed against his chest, trembling.  Axel slid one hand up over Roxas’s chest, from his stomach up to his collarbone, palm brushing over one hard nipple, until it was cupping his chin, tilting his head back, fingers tracing the delicate line of his throat.  Axel broke contact with that precious spot and moved up a bare inch to breathe directly into the shell of his ear, lips brushing hot against it.

“Put it away.”

The DS snapped closed, and Roxas hastily shoved it onto the windowsill, breath shaking.

“Good.”  Axel dragged his hand back down, letting Roxas relax his neck against his shoulder, feeling goosebumps rise of his skin as it traveled down, under the water.  Fingers teasing slowly, down between Roxas’s legs.  “You do think I’m hotter than Link, right?”

Roxas chuckle was cut off by a gasp and a long shudder running through his body.  “I—I dunno,” he stuttered, mostly breath, just a bit of a smirk on his face as he tilted his head to the side to nuzzle at Axel’s cheek.  “If I say no will you keep being jealous like this?”

“If you say no I’ll leave you two alone together.”

“Definitely hotter.”  Roxas chuckled, pulling Axel’s arms around his waist and twisting so he could kiss him properly.  Slowly, arching up a bit with a low sound in his throat when he coaxed Axel’s tongue into his mouth.  “And you come with better hardware.”

“Nerd,” Axel purred like it was the sexiest word in existence, and kissed him again.


	15. akurokushi, 300th post

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 300th post on tumblr

There were times that Roxas wondered if he was really just that unassuming, unsuspecting, if he was really the sort of person who was easy to read or if that was just part of the thing called friendship that he was never sure he fully understood.  He just knew that there were two people in the world who always made everything inside him settle down, level out.  Made him wish for the taste of sugar and salt and a warm breeze.  It was simple, for him, even though there were always more and more questions.  That part was simple.

And maybe it was that simplicity that made him an easy target, because sometimes he would just be serenely floating along with an empty popsicle stick in his hand and a vague smile on his face and suddenly Xion would get this look.  Just the way her eyebrows pulled down, the corner of her mouth turned up, the flash of something wicked and playful in her eyes and before he knew it Roxas was on his back and she was giggling madly, pinning is arms, tickling his ribs until he squirmed and kicked and yelled for Axel, who had just come around the corner of the tower with a fresh handful of ice cream and was staring down at them with a dubious expression.

"Axel, make her stop!"

And Axel would smirk a little, shrug his shoulders, eyes closed, head tilted.  ”Can’t help ya, man.”  And he’d try to step over and around them to get to his spot.

Unaware, unfortunately for him, that Xion had no intention of letting him get away.  Her hands on his coat drew a yelp, a curse, and then a crash that made Roxas squeak, at the bottom of the pile that Axel fell sprawling over.  Ice cream carefully held out to the side, more important than effectively breaking his fall.

Xion laughed.

"This is  _very_  undignified,” Axel muttered, face somewhere buried in her black hair.

"Can’t breathe," Roxas wheezed.

"I win!"  Xion clapped, and Roxas wasn’t entirely sure why she was so pleased to be completely squished between them.


	16. soriku, trick or treating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat for seirioses on tumblr

Riku wasn’t completely sure that going trick or treating was a terrible idea until halfway through the night when they were surrounded by squealing children and Sora was riding on his back and trying to bite his neck with his plastic vampire fangs.

Riku sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who needed to reclaim his sense of childlike fun and hadn’t quite gotten there. ”No more sugar for you.”

"Leetwhfftywnggt."

"Stop that."

"But I want your bloooooooooood," Sora purred in a terrible imitation of Boris Karloff.

"You’re never going to sleep tonight, are you?"

"No," Sora whispered, low enough none of the kids around them would hear. "I’m not."

Like he said, Riku didn’t realize it was such a great idea to go trick or treating until halfway through the night. Pretty amazing, actually.


	17. akuroku, hocus pocus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat for xigsnow on tumblr

The doorbell rang yet again and Roxas groaned to himself, flinging of his blanket and dragging himself off the couch and away from his computer for maybe the billionth time that night. Seriously, how many kids could possibly live in one apartment complex? He was low on candy already, resorting to handing out one piece per kid which made him feel stingy and left him wondering if any of them had a carton of eggs at home waiting.

He opened the door with the depleted bowl in hand, looking down in anticipation of another rugrat chiming out trick or treat and froze when his gaze landed on someone’s crotch instead.

"Trick or treat," a deep, sexy voice purred. "I’ll take the treat, actually."

Roxas tilted his head up, then up further, until he finally saw a face, half-covered in a black mask, the elastic barely holding a bush of red hair under control. ”The fuck,” he muttered, shuffling back. ”You’re too old and I’m almost out of candy. Save it for the kids, huh?”

"You’re never too old," the ridiculously tall guy declared through a toothy white grin. "Besides which, I’m the Boy Wonder." He spread his arms to demonstrate his costume, rather nicely form-fitting red and green, which Roxas belatedly realized was, in fact, a well made Robin. "Therefore I qualify as a kid."

Roxas sighed. ”Fine, whatever.” He grabbed one of the last few Butterfingers out of his bowl and dropped it in Tall Guy’s pillowcase. ”There. Goodbye.”

That white grin turned quickly into a frown. ”That’s it? Where’s your Halloween spirit?”

"Wherever the last copy of Hocus Pocus at the rental place ended up." Roxas started pushing the door closed. "Bye."

He should have known better, seeing that grin reappear just before the door closed.

Roxas had to put a note on his door after the candy ran out, since he didn’t technically have a porch light, and hoped to spend the rest of the night doorbell-free and enjoy some quality time with Minecraft and the doledrums of his internal thoughts.

Unfortunately, a half hour later, it went off again.

Roxas had his best not pleased but trying to be polite face on, figuring the note had fallen or blown away, but he opened the door once again not to trick or treaters, but a white paper Carl’s Jr. bag and a Hocus Pocus DVD case.

"It’s your turn to say it," Tall Guy said, mask pushed back on his forehead to reveal brilliant green eyes.

Roxas wondered how likely it was that a guy who ran around in a Robin costume like a twelve year old on Halloween was a serial killer, rapist, stalker, ax murderer or otherwise. He weighed that against the possibility that he might just be a nice, thoughtful, kind of eccentric guy who went out on a mission in the middle of the night to find a grumpy blond stranger’s Halloween spirit.

"Trick or treat."


	18. love potion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat for nimbarae on tumblr

The vapors rising from the bubbling cauldron were noxious, too sweet, heady and flowery and rotting all at once.  It made his head spin, made him gag, made his stomach churn with anxiety.  The woman behind the brew cackled when he retched, her squat form shaking under shapeless robes, one clawed hand stirring, stirring, stirring.

"What do you desire?"  Her voice was like quicksand, like the long, deadly hiss of a snake.

"Love," he gasped, choking on the fumes.  "A love potion.  The most powerful one you can make."

"Ohoho," she chuckled again, the croak of a dying crow.

"I have money.  As much as you want.  Just… please."  He was almost shaking, desperation warring with nausea.

That terrible chuckle continued as the ancient woman ladled some of the goop into a vial, where it swirled and twisted like violet smoke.  He snatched it from her claws as soon as it was offered, tossing a handful of bills at her feet before dashing away, out of the fumes and away from her hideous laughter.

_Yes_ , he had it.  Finally.   _Finally_ , he could have everything he ever wanted.  The life and the lover he’d dreamed of for years.  That it would be a contrived happiness occurred to him, but he pushed it aside.  It would be worth it.  It would be perfect, just as he imagined.

Perfect.


	19. roxas, hiding from the monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat for viestadisaster on tumblr

Roxas had been in the closet for two hours, maybe, cold sweat trickling down his neck, handgun clasped in his hands so tightly he could smell the warmth from the metal.  He couldn’t hide here.  His breath was too loud, his heartbeat was too loud, his  _existence_  was too loud, too obvious, and who knew how it found its prey.  Sound, smell, taste.  He could hear it, shuffling around on the stairs.  Starting down the hall with a heavy thump.

Thump.  Thump.

Axel was somewhere, maybe outside, maybe getting help.  Maybe dead.  Sora was still passed out in his lap, oblivious, blood trickling from his forehead.  Roxas licked sweat from his lips, thumb drawing back the hammer, breath freezing in his throat at the soft click.

Thump.  Thump.  THUMP.

He didn’t dare to breathe.   _Please don’t notice.  Don’t notice.  Move on._

THUMP.


	20. akuroku, vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat for bibliophiliac88 on tumblr

Roxas didn’t usually come out with his brother on Halloween, despite what he said about easy pickings year after year, but he’d given in for once and oh, good lord, giving in was sweet.  Especially when it involved being on someone’s backyard trampoline with a groggy redhead between his knees, tasting beer and chocolate on his tongue, each inhale filled with the rich smell of the guy’s skin, heat and desire, and the even deeper, richer smell of something better.

Axel’s fingers were clawing at his hips, moaning into the crisp night air when Roxas started kissing down his jaw.  ”You know,” he murmured, more than slightly drunk and still charming as fuck, and Roxas almost bit his own tongue—wouldn’t it be a shame, to take this one?  ”I hear that if you have sex on a trampoline it does half the work for you.”

"Does it?" Roxas murmured, tongue tracing the line of Axel’s neck and oh, good gods, he smelled amazing.  And felt amazing, hips rolling up into his until Roxas groaned, open-mouthed, and bit down.

"Ow," Axel hissed, then let out a moan.  "Ohhh wow, that’s one hell of a hickey.  Hey.  Hey Roxas."

Roxas hummed softly in response, licking the blood from his teeth.

"I think I love you."

There was just enough light from the moon and the yellow lamp on the back porch for a slight glimmer to show on his fangs when Roxas grinned.  ”You’re lucky I think I might love you, too.”


	21. akuroku, lip gloss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 813th tumblr post  
> (set in the same universe as chapter 17)

It’s the fourth of May and Axel has a copy of  _Return of the Jedi_  in one hand and a bag of frozen foodstuffs in the other. He takes the steps to Roxas’s apartment two at a time and opts not to knock when the front door is locked because there’s a deep sort of satisfaction that wells up in his stomach whenever he can use the key Roxas gave him, jingling gold on its own loop on his keyring. The living room is vacant, Netflix lit up with the  _Are You Still Watching?_  screen, and at first Axel figures Roxas is back in his bedroom with his laptop. Sometimes he starts playing Minecraft and forgets everything else in the universe for a few hours.

But after dumping his groceries in the kitchen, Axel notes that the bathroom light is on. Roxas is sitting on the counter with one knee crooked over the sink, a tube of lip gloss in his hands and far too much mascara on his eyelashes. Axel leans against the doorframe and somehow isn’t terribly surprised by this development.

"Are you sure that’s your color?" He gestures to the plastic tube and its questionable contents, the words  _Red Wedding_  emblazoned across the label. Roxas’s answering chuckle and the smear of dark gloss across his lower lip illustrate all of his fears.

"I like wearing the blood of my enemies." Roxas leans back towards the mirror to finish the job and purses his lips with an exaggerated smack.

"Changed your last name to Lannister, have you?"

"Here." Roxas replaces the applicator with a pop and passes the tube over. "It smells like a fruit roll-up."

"Why do I need lip gloss?"

"It goes with your guyliner." Roxas hops off the sink, smirking, and hooks a finger through Axel’s beltloop as he brushes past. "And you’ll be wearing it one way or another."

"I’m just gonna be honest here," Axel says, scrambling back with one hand to flip off the light as he’s dragged away by the waist, "I’m not sure whether to be turned on or run for my life."

"Perfect."


	22. nezushi, car trips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1000th post on Tumblr (kind of by accident) in response to the prompt "Nezumi/Shion + Car Trips"

"Nezumi, we’re lost."

"No we’re not, I know exactly where we are."

"I think we should ask for directions."

"Sorry, your majesty, but my aloof persona will not permit me to trust in the support of strangers during such an important mission. They could be undercover agents surveilling our movements."

"We’re looking for a bed and breakfast, not overthrowing the government."


	23. toumaki, burglary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to a prompt by deadfreckledboys on tumblr: "two separate robbers breaking into the same house au" with TouMaki because Toudou in a cat burglar suit needs to be a thing.

Toudou remembered the exact moment things began to go wrong because he was looking in a mirror at the time, and there was no reason not to clearly recall just how good he’d looked in the reflection of the sliding closet doors, full-length, black neoprene clinging to him like a second skin and yes, forgoing the traditional beanie had been the correct decision.  Black did go best with black, however, especially when pulling a heist on the richest neighborhood in town and a white headband would stand out like a neon sign in the dark.

In short, he had paused to admire himself midway through emptying the top dresser drawer of its valuables, some choice jewelry and watches, and that was when he heard a noise from the next room.  Toudou froze, one hand still brushing his hair back elegantly, silently panicking and racing mentally over his plans and recon.  No one should be home, there hadn’t been a single light on the second floor when he slipped inside through the utility room window.  Was it a pet?  Had he made any noise?  Should he go to investigate or grab his loot and run?

Ultimately he settled on the last option, especially given the possibility that the noise could have been produced by a very large and well trained guard dog.  He snatched up his bag, slipping out into the darkened hall as quietly as possible, peering about for any sign of life, human, canine, or otherwise.  Seeing nothing but shadows, he sucked in a breath, held it for the count of three, and made a frantic, flying break for the stairs.

So, apparently, did one of the shadows.

Toudou’s unexpected but inevitable collision with another warm body elicited a scream, quickly cut off by a hand over his mouth and a strained, desperate hiss in his ear.  He gave up willingly and far too easily, dropping the bag in his hands and raising both palms in the air, effecting a sob.

“Pleafh,” he said, and the hand muffling his mouth shifted slightly.  “I give up.”

“What?”

“I’m too pretty to go to jail.”  Toudou pouted as much as possible, not that it was in any way effective in the dark.  “Just look at me, I wouldn’t last five minutes.”

“You—what.  Who are you?”  A hand tugged his shoulder around without much finesse, backing him into a wall and hissing again when he whined.  “Shh, dammit!  What the hell.”

Toudou found himself faced with a broad, flat expanse of chest covered in what may have been black neoprene, not unlike his own catsuit—except this one covered a far more gangly body belonging to, as he discovered while tilting his head back, a man with a very dour expression, stereotypical beanie perched on his head and apparently stuffed full of hair, as it was spilling out in various directions.  That was about as much as he could tell in the dark.  “Who are you?”

“I’m—whatever, I’m robbing this house.”

“No,  _I’m_  robbing this house.”

“What?”

“What?”

Somewhere in the house an alarm went off.

Toudou didn’t remember much of the next few minutes other than Mr. Dour-face hissing “Shit shit shit get out get out get  _out_ ,” and scrambling on carpet and wood and grass and ultimately diving deep into pitch-black woods and trying to protect his precious face from being slapped by tree branches.

Ultimately they emerged onto the side of a highway, where a late-model hatchback was parked in a pool of lamplight.  Mr. Dour-face was still holding on to his arm like it was a lifeline (although Toudou was the one who’d been dragged behind) and continued to do so as they both caught their breath, until he realized it and snatched the hand away abruptly.

Toudou raised both his arms, noting that he’d grabbed his bag of loot on instinct when they ran, then dropped them back to his sides.  “I have no idea where I am now.  Thanks a bunch.  What am I supposed to do now?”

Dour-face made a sound like an engine squealing.  “I got you out of there!  You were crying!”

“I was not.”

“You were!”

Toudou patted his hair down, checking for stray leaves and twigs, and observed the man who sort of rescued him, how his own bag of loot was also pitifully small, how they’d basically fouled up each other’s jobs, how the hair straggling out from under his beanie was orange-streaked green and how the downward pull of his mouth looked more exhausted and uncertain than angry.  He nodded to himself, lifting one finger both to indicate the other man and attract his attention.

“All right, this will do, but next time our getaway car should be waiting on a direct route from the target house.  No trees.  Too much potential danger to my assets.  What’s your name?”

“To your—Makishima, but what does that—“

“Maki-chan, it seems more reasonable in the future that one of us remains in the car prepared to drive as soon as the other returns.”

“That is not the issue here!”

“Isn’t it?  Is this a stick shift?  You’ll have to be the driver, then.”

“ _What is happening?_ ”

“Give me your phone number.”

“ _Where were you even keeping a cell phone?_ ”


	24. asanoya, scary movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat for xigheart on tumblr!
> 
> Some late-night asanoya that could have been scarier but even I couldn't handle scaring Asahi that much. The big marshmallow.

The television was the only light source in the entire house, flickering blue through his eyelids when Asahi woke up. It was late, quiet and still in a way that assured him the hour was in single digits he rolled onto his side, absorbing his surroundings in a haze of sensation—couch cushions, rough knitted blanket, coffee table that he located with his shin and a low hiss. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, grumbling, feeling his hair scraggle loose around his neck as he sat up. Something was missing.

"Yuu?"

Adjusting to the light, he cast around the room, but Nishinoya wasn’t asleep in the recliner, or on the floor, or even curled up at the other end of the couch. Asahi frowned slightly stumbling to his feet and towards what he was pretty sure was the kitchen. Where was the light switch, again? He patted his hand against the wall where he thought it might be with no success. “Yuu?” Maybe he’d gone to sleep in his bed, but he generally wouldn’t have left Asahi alone with the tv still on.

The hallway was ink black, and Asahi shivered, reaching back to the wall to try again for a light switch. The bluish glow from the TV was creepy, and the sheer silence was creepier. Where was that switch?

A breath of air passed by his ear. “Asahi.”

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"

The light flicked on and Asahi peered out from over his fingers at Nishinoya, who had gotten incredibly tall at some point. No, Asahi was just on the floor, cowering in a corner. That was it.

"Okay I thought that was gonna be funny but now I feel bad."

"Yuu…"

"Come here. Come on, let’s turn on the lights and watch Cinderella."

"Okay."


	25. soriku, ghost hunters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat for nimbarae on tumblr.
> 
> Sora and Riku go ghost hunting!

"Okay," Sora said emphatically, raising the camera in front of one eye as professionally as possible, "but this is only going to work if you put some feeling into it."

"Why do I have to be the host?"

"Because I’m the director."

"You have the camera. Pretty sure that makes you the cameraman."

"I’m both."

"Why don’t you make Kairi be the host?"

"Because if we’re gonna compete with Ghost Adventures we need a host that’s ostensibly a Bro. And you’re way hotter than Zak, so we’re already ahead in that department.”

"Really?"

"Yes. Also Kairi woudn’t scream and run away if something scary happened, and at least half the fun of ghost hunter shows is when they freak out."

"Alright." Riku ran one hand back through his hair, still uncertain, unaware of how his mussed look only added to his appeal. Sora was aware. "I’ll give it a shot."

"Awesome. Okay, Kingdom Haunts, pilot episode, take one. Action!"


	26. imanarusaka, ghost stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat for deadfreckledboys on tumblr
> 
> Naruko, Onoda, and Imaizumi tell ghost stories during a camping trip.

"But that wasn’t the end!"  Naruko flailed his free arm, up on his knees now, flashlight still turned upwards in front of his face, casting eerie shadows over the top of the tent.  "The team all went home thinking the terror was over, but as each one of them lay in their beds that night, certain they were safe and sound, _that’s when they heard it_.”

Onoda had both arms wrapped tightly around Imaizumi’s thin waist by this point, watching Naruko’s performance wide-eyed, mouth open slack in abject horror.  Imaizumi’s back was ramrod straight, expression blank but his hand was fisted in the back of Onoda’s shirt.

"What, what?"  Onoda couldn’t stand the extended pause.  "What did they hear?"

Naruko shuffled forward on his knees, leaning over the pair of them with a wicked grin that looked demonic in the flashlight’s shadows.  “In the distance, steadily approaching their window, they heard… _kimo_.”

Imaizumi and Onoda gasped at the same time, at nearly the same pitch, clinging together.

"Kimo."  Naruko’s voice rose slightly each time he uttered the dreaded phrase.  "Kimo…  _kimo_ … KIMO…”

"Noooo, Imaizumi make him stop."

"I think that’s enough for now."  Imaizumi was making every effort to assure that his voice wasn’t trembling at all.  "You’re gonna scare Onoda."

"I’m sure that Onoda is the only one getting scared, hotshot."  Naruko flicked off the flashlight and sighed, flopping onto his back across both of their legs.  "Alright, no more ghost stories."

"That was less ‘ghost’ and more ‘creepy lizard man from outer space’ to be honest."

"Six of one and half-dozen of the other."

"I don’t think I can sleep now, guys," Onoda mumbled from somewhere under Naruko’s shoulder.

"Oh really."

"Oh really."

"Don’t copy me, hotshot."

“ _You’re_ the one copying _me!_ ”

It wasn’t until after a lot of frivolous and indecent activity that Onoda did finally feel that he could drift off to sleep, buried in a nest of sleeping bags and sandwiched between two bare chests.

Of course, it was then that he heard it.  Off in the distance, almost a whisper that might have been imagined until he heard it again, slightly closer.

… _kimo_ …


	27. team karasuno, haunted house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trick or treat for xigheart on tumblr
> 
> the Karasuno volleyball team takes on a haunted house

“We’re going in,” Nishinoya said with one hand fisted in Tanaka’s shirt sleeve and the other pointing directly at Asahi.  The angle of light in front of the house was cold and golden and the gust of wind that passed between them was downright frosty.  The other third years were already inside–they went directly after Tsukki stalked through the front doors with a scoff and Yamaguchi attached to his elbow.  They hadn’t heard a sound since then, although arguably it would be hard to hear anything over the sound of Kageyama and Hinata fighting over who was less scared of going inside the haunted house while conspicuously not going inside the haunted house.

“I’ll wait,” Asahi said, shifting on his heels.

“You’re coming.”

“I should wait here.  As a guard.  In case someone comes out.  So they know to wait for everyone else.”

“You should come inside WITH us so we can FIND everyone else and all leave together.”  Nishinoya was coaxing at this point, like luring a scared cat out from under a sofa.  “It’s safer than staying out here alone.”

“Well,” Asahi considered.

A shriek rose from somewhere inside the building and Asahi bristled, face turning white.  Kageyama and HInata immediately stopped arguing and grabbed each other in something suspiciously resembling an embrace.

Nishinoya was opening his mouth to resume the argument when the front door banged open and Tsukki marched out, eyes comically wide with Yamaguchi laughing at his side.  “Are you kidding me?  That was so fake!”

“Shut up Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki!”

“Hey, wait,” Tanaka demanded, wrestling free from Noya’s grip as Tsukki marched past them.  “Hold on!  Where are Suga and Daichi?”

“Ahaha,” Yamaguchi said, pausing only to wave one hand in front of his face.  “I wouldn’t worry about them.”

A heavy pause ensued, broken only by Asahi exhaling and rubbing the back of his neck, in which Noya and Takana’s expressions flattened in precisely the same manner.  No one moved.

“I’m going in,” Hinata announced, still mostly attached to Kageyama, and proceeded towards the doors with said attachment in tow.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Asahi said, but they were already arguing about which one of them was going to protect the other.  “So… standing guard?”

“Standing guard,” Noya and Tanaka agreed in unison.


	28. sorikai, ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trick or treat for piyoo on tumblr
> 
> Kairi attends a rooftop Halloween ball

Kairi has her arms full of a pink ball gown that sheds glitter with every movement, and is stalking up what she hopes is the last flight of stairs before the elevator starts working again in the flip-flops she was sensible enough to wear underneath it, although they keep catching on the lip of the steps and trip her up.  She drops the skirt in a rustling, glittery exhale at the landing and heaves open the door, relieved to find the elevator lobby clear and a car waiting, doors open, empty.

She pushes the button for the top floor and flops against the railing along the back wall with a sigh as the elevator whirrs to life.  The mirrored doors slide shut, reflecting her costume in all it’s glittery, slashed and ripped glory, fake blood oozing around the edges and dripping from the prosthetic injuries spirit-gummed to her chest and shoulders.  Her makeup is grayish-white, eyes ringed in purple and black.  It’s perfect.

It matches the two young men reflected on either side of her.

She learned a long time ago not to look directly into either of their eyes, when she looks in a mirror.  But tonight, if she can talk her way into the private party on the roof, if she can find the spiritualist rumored to be there, maybe she’ll finally get to ask the question–

_Who are you, and why are you here?_


	29. fushimi, torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trick or treat for deadfreckledboys on tumblr
> 
> Fushimi keeps Yata in his basement and its fucked up. Sorry.

It seemed like there was more blood than usual when Fushimi washed his hands, watching the water run pink down the stained porcelain sink in the basement restroom.  His knives were already clean, rubbed down properly with a handkerchief and replaced in his sleeve, but his hands were particularly soiled, this time.  Perhaps he’d gotten carried away.

The water ran clear and he turned off the faucet, and without the rushing water he could hear labored breathing beyond the open door–labored but not thin, so not _too_ carried away.  It wouldn’t do to accidentally kill his toy this early in the game.  There were too many things yet to happen, too much fun still to be had.

He tugged his sleeves down and walked out, intending to continue to the stairs and back up into the light of day, lock the door behind him to keep his favorite pastime away from prying eyes.  But a rough voice hissed, “Bastard,” at him as he passed and he stopped in his tracks, chuckling.

“You wound me,” he whimpered, one hand on his heart, the other grabbing a handful of red hair so he could see the face of the boy he had chained to the wall.  “Misaki.  Why not call me by name again?  We used to be so _close_.”

He felt something damp hit his face, Yata’s feeble attempt at spitting, and sneered.

“Someone’s going to find me.  Soon.”

Fushimi chuckled again, breezing past towards the stairs.  “Oh.  I can’t wait till they do.”


	30. sea salt trio, trick or treating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trick or treat for sylvermyth on tumblr
> 
> Axel takes the kids trick or treating and they're adorable

“Why do we have to wear the masks?” Roxas asked, pushing the plastic plate away from his skin, feeling the edges dig in around his eyesockets.  He was still in the same heavy coat as usual, but Axel had wrapped an elastic band around his hair and pushed pumpkin-shaped pails into his and Xion’s hands.  He recognized them as pumpkins from Halloween Town, anyway.  Xion also had a mask, something sparkly and purple with wings that fanned out on either side of her eyes.  Roxas wasn’t sure what his looked like.

“It’s tradition,” Axel said, herding them down from the clocktower with a nudge between the shoulderblades.  “Trust me.  It’ll be worth the marks they leave on your face.”

In fact, there seemed to be a lot of people in Twilight Town with masks on, once they were down in the square and could see the other children huddled in groups around bags and pillow cases, laughing and running together from one shop to the next.  Axel drew to a halt and pointed to a building off to the side.  “There.  Go knock on that door.”

“Is that part of the mission?” Xion asked, head tilted back.

“It is tonight.  Knock on the door, and when someone answers, you have to say ‘trick or treat.’  Got it?”

Roxas blinked, looking from the unassuming door to Axel’s brilliant grin, thinking he was missing something.  “What happens then?”

“Jeez Roxas, sometimes in life, you have to find things out for yourself.  Go knock.”

Well.  If it had to do with a mission, Roxas supposed something important would happen after knocking on the door and saying a password.  Maybe they would gain entrance to a secret area, or a boss Heartless would appear.  Though, that might be dangerous with so many people around.  What did Axel have in mind?

Xion nudged him, and he straightened up next to her while she knocked.  When the door creaked open and a plump, middle aged woman appeared, they both chorused a rather wooden “Trick or treat!”

Contrary to any expectations, the woman smiled and cooed.  “Ahh, what cute costumes!  Here you go.”

And she proceeded to drop a handful of candy into each of their buckets.

“You two have fun tonight!  Happy Halloween!”

Roxas and Xion stared at each other in wonder, then slowly understood what was happening, and the myriad of costumes and children around them.  Without needing to confirm any mutual comprehension they chorused a belated “Thank you!” as the door closed and turned to race towards the doorway to the next house.

Free candy!

“Hey.  HEY you two hold on!”  Axel hurried after them, dodging several costumed individuals much smaller than him.  “Only knock on the ones with a porch light on.  HEY!”


	31. nozaki and hori and a tanuki costume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trick or treat for kachirocks on tumblr
> 
> Hori attempts to keep his Halloween production running smoothly.

It was five minutes into dress rehearsal for _Nightmare on B Street_ that Hori began to regret all of his life choices.  Incidentally, that was also the moment that Nozaki appeared at his shoulder.

“I understand that you may need some help and am here to assist.”

Hori looked over and immediately wished he hadn’t, but took the opportunity to look Nozaki over from head to toe.  “I appreciate the offer, past experience notwithstanding.”

“Excellent.  I hoped to also use this opportunity to observe the student body in their Halloween celebrations.  I’ll be sure to keep my camera use discreet during the production, of course.”

“That’s fine, but–” Hori sighed, one hand curling the script up into a tube.  “Why exactly are you in a tanuki costume?”

Nozaki looked down at himself briefly, then back up.  “It’s Halloween.  I assumed that dressing up was appropriate.”

“It is, but not necessarily in the scope of the play.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Nozaki you _wrote the script_.”

Nozaki hummed, and took the tube from Hori’s hand to flip through it, finally making a noise of recognition and flipping through the pages.  “Yes, excellent, we can work with this.”

“Work with it how?  This is supposed to be a horror story.”

There was a long pause while Nozaki continued reading, then looked up from the script with a bemused expression.  “I never thought I would say this, but I think the story might benefit from the presence of a tanuki.”

“Please go back to costuming.  Now.”


	32. soriku, fangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trick or treat for kinglets on tumblr
> 
> but ARE Sora's vampire fangs real???

“Okay but are the fangs real?”

They had only gotten as far as Guillotine Square before Riku asked the question, and Sora paused with all his weight on one heel, fingers still laced behind his head.  “What do you mean, are they real?”

Riku was exactly one head taller than him, which meant he could look down at Sora with a perfectly shadowed expression of derision from under the bone mask hiding a third of his face.  “Exactly what I said.”

Sora pouted at him and surreptitiously bumped against the fangs in his mouth with his tongue, one at a time, testing to see if they wiggled or not.  “They seem real enough.”

Riku took three more steps, at his side, tugging at the unfamiliar black fabric clinging to him, ripped artfully in various places to show the iridescent white painted skeleton on the bodysuit beneath.  “I mean, do you…”

“Do I what.”

He seemed to struggle with whatever was on his mind for several seconds, face screwing up in a way that usually boded overthinking or preceded something self-deprecating coming out of his mouth.  “Do you… drink… blood?”

“What?”

Riku was clearly red somewhere under his mask.  “Do you drink blood?  Because you’re a vampire.  Here, in this world.”

Sora snorted, and burst out laughing, throwing all of his weight into ramming Riku with his shoulder until he staggered against the metal grate fence surrounding the square.  “Of course not!  It’s a costume.  You’re dressed as a skeleton, but it’s not like you’re actually made of bones, right?”

“Right…”

“What, did you think I was gonna bite your neck while you slept?”

“…maybe.”

“I mean, I _could_.  If you really wanted.”

“Please don’t.”

They walked on in silence for another minute, Sora grinning unbearably, tottering to the side with each step just to nudge Riku with his elbow until he broke out of his stoic, embarrassed facade and laughed.  “Okay, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Sora echoed, linking their arms together.  “Maybe is good.”


	33. terra confronted by trick-or-treating akuroku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trick or treat for nicayall on tumblr
> 
> Terra has had a long night.

Terra might have had a few too many spiked pumpkin lattes early on in the evening but he still knew bullshit when he saw it.  He was pretty sure.  He knew cute when he saw it, at least, and the two seven-year-old boys from up the street dressed as Jedi knights were incredibly cute and Aqua scolded him for giving them too much candy.  Not because they didn’t deserve it, but because now the bowl was likely to run out before the end of the night.

But the two teenagers who were now on his front steps were definitely not cute and this was definitely bullshit.

“I swear, I’m twelve years old,” the redhead insisted, standing at least five feet ten inches tall if not more.  He was standing on the lowest porch step in some attempt to lessen the impression that his height gave off.  And his wildly spiked fire engine red hair.  And eyeliner.  And what might have been facial tattoos below his eyes.

“Right.”

“This is my babysitter.”  The redhead pointed to the blond next to him–”next” used loosely, since the boy in question was at the top of the stairs in an effort to make him look taller.  All five feet of him and his chubby cheeked baby face too.

“I’m his babysitter,” the blond parroted, reaching back and absently smacking the redhead’s shoulder.  “I’m 17.  He’s a pretty good kid.  Has an overactive thyroid or something.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Terra said, not even bothering to reach for the bowl.  “If you’re going to try to hustle people out of Halloween candy, at least try to pretend that _he_ ,” Terra pointed to the blond, “is the 12-year-old.”

“We tried that.  It was too easy.”

“Also this way is funnier.”  The redhead lifted his pillowcase with the most precious grin he could muster.  “Trick or treat!”

Terra closed the door.  Then opened the door, tossed a Snickers bar into the redhead’s pillow case, and closed it again.

“Did you just–” Aqua started, peering around the corner.

“Just one,” Terra said, going to the kitchen to spike another latte.  “For effort.”


	34. leopika, apparitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trick or treat for delmareve on tumblr
> 
> The veil is thin and Leorio is seeing things.

Gon built robot armor made of cardboard boxes and tin foil that Leorio reinforced with duct tape and velcro while he was out playing in the park.  Killua made a fox kigurumi out of fleece fabric that Leorio finished hand-sewing frantically the night before.  They were easy to identify from a distance, even in the parade of masked and costumed revelers in the city square, marching down along main street while kids ran to and fro to gather candy from the storefronts.  Leorio just finished midterms and one glorious bottle of Heifeweizen, and moved sedately down the sidewalk with his jacket under one arm, unintentionally dressed in hospital-blue scrubs that were as good as a costume in a pinch.

The crowd shifted and jostled him, moving to part around something unmoving in the middle of the road and Leorio hissed, peering through sequins and feathers and fluttering gray fabric for some sign of the disturbance and got caught up in the flow of people he’d tried to remain on the edge of.  The crowd swept him along but parted slightly, just enough that he caught a glimpse and thought he saw–

_blond hair, red eyes_

“Kurapika!”  He called the name, felt how his voice was muffled by the crowd, and shoved his way past a giraffe and two skeletons to get to the part in the flow of traffic.  He broke free with a huff but the road where he stood was empty, and as soon as he got there the crowd moved to fill the space again, as though it had never parted to begin with.  Leorio stumbled, calling for Kurapika again, looking around wildly for any sign of where they disappeared to.

He stumbled onto the opposite sidewalk, in a pool of light between a produce stall and a hat shop, and realized he’d lost sight of the two boys.  They probably didn’t notice, preoccupied with candy and glowsticks and balloon animals, but before long the crowds would peter out and leave the streets empty and the shadows dangerous.  He needed to move forward, and find them.

He glanced past the awning of the produce stall and caught a glimpse of blond hair disappearing around the corner.  Just a glimpse.  Just a head but he’d know the height and the set of those shoulders anywhere, in any lifetime.

“Kurapika!” he called, rushing around to the empty side street, feet clattering loud on the pavement.  A shadow moving near an alleyway had him calling again, running again, certain he heard the pad of softer footprints, swishing fabric, maybe even a voice that said

_Leorio_

He turned another corner and felt wood planks under his feet, hollow echoes now with each step and his toe caught on the edge of one.  He stumbled, barely catching himself from falling on his face or subsequently running headlong off a pier and falling into the pitch-black water of the harbor.  He straightened up, bewildered, one hand steadying himself on a pile, not sure how he’d gotten so far from the main road and the carnival he could still hear in the distance.

Leorio caught his breath, dug his cell phone out of his pocket and thumbed through it blindly, calling the number he’d been calling repeatedly for months now, hoping for a different response.  Hoping for _any_ response.

The call rang itself off the hook, no answer, no voicemail.  Leorio waited until his service dropped before stuffing the phone back into his pocket and slowly walking back to the square.


	35. kurahi, things you said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "things you said with too many miles between us" for @sylvermyth on tumblr
> 
> This is an idea that eventually later became the much better, more fleshed out idea that is _con·tra·dic·tion_ but here are the dusty origins anyhow

The tiny blue sprite looked profoundly harassed, more than a little exhausted, and it scowled at Hiei like he’d personally wronged it by virtue of existing.  He thought it was pitiful, at first, hovering midair with the limited amount of power it had–nothing worth noting, it would probably take more energy to kill the creature than it possessed and that was likely the only reason it was still alive.  But that expression kindled Hiei’s loathing, and he decided not to dismiss the idea of killing the sprite anyway.  “What the hell do you want?”

“To deliver a message to General Hiei, which appears to be you, finally.”

“Why didn’t you leave it with the sentry?”

“I was given explicit instructions to hand it only to you, no one else, and to urge your discretion with its contents.”

Hiei didn’t need to hear any more, scoffing through his teeth and batting the blue thing away.  “Shut up.  Go back and tell that idiot fox I have nothing to say to him.”

“He said you would say that, and to tell you that it would be unwise to ignore him.”

“Of course he did!”  Hiei threw up his hands and turned to stalk away, turning back a moment later in an aggravated pace, one hand on the hilt of his sword.  “What else did he tell you?  Please, entertain me.  What other characteristically accurate turns of phrase did he teach you to parrot at me like a trained pet?”

The blue sprite’s expression twisted further downwards, but it apparently had nothing further to say.  Just produced a small red envelope and thrust it towards Hiei like it could make him accept the message through will alone.

Hiei gave the creature a warning growl, but snatched the envelope away in a blur and just as quickly removed himself from the small thing’s presence, dashing from one end of Mukuro’s fortress to the other and coming to rest on the roof, blessedly empty of anything but the wind kicked up from its passage through the outskirts of some forest.  On another day Hiei might have known or cared where they were, but right now the envelope was wrinkling in his fist, smelling faintly of roses.

_I’ll burn it_ , he thought, but stared at the red paper for several minutes without doing so.

“I know what it’s going to say!” he yelled at the envelope, as though the fox himself were there and able to hear him.  “You’re going to strongly advise that I reconsider my position with Mukuro and side with you instead, for my own well-being, because whatever you’ve orchestrated on Yomi’s behalf is going to destroy us.  Because you’re so goddamn brilliant and self-assured that it would never even occur to you that maybe your plans won’t go the way you intend.”

He glared at the envelope for another few minutes, daring it to respond, daring Kurama to speak from it as though his voice was trapped somewhere inside, like those devices humans used to call for each other over distances.  But Kurama wasn’t in the envelope, and neither was his voice–the Jagan saw clearly that he was over five thousand miles away in Gandara, doing whatever he was doing in Yomi’s palace; whether that was plotting or manipulating or keeping Yomi’s bed warm or all of the above, Hiei didn’t care.  He really, really did not care, not one bit.

His fingers were so tight around the paper that his hand started to shake, and he hissed out a curse, ripping the envelope open and tearing out the letter inside.

_Hiei,_

_You might be expecting this message to encourage you to stand down so that I can spare your life in the coming conflict between our respective lords; however, I won’t insult you by asking you to betray your loyalties, or back away from a challenge.  I look forward to facing you, with all of my strength._

_Be well,_

_Kurama_

The wind whistled past him, and Hiei sank down to sit on the metallic roof, feeling the rumble of the centipede moving beneath him.  Kurama was two steps ahead, as always; two thoughts past whatever was in Hiei’s mind.  He folded the paper back into fourths and raised it to his lips, appreciating the sentiment and the fact that at least the damn fox understood–but he was wrong about one thing.

He snapped his fingers and the paper combusted instantly, ashes whipped away with the wind and dispersed into the atmosphere, crackling with static and decay.  Five thousand miles away he thought he felt Kurama’s presence turn towards him, just for an instant, like he could sense the Jagan’s attention.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Hiei murmured, arms folded over his knees.


	36. yuuram/royal family, halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> halloween fic for @daydreamdreamer on tumblr

Wolf was kneeling on the plush carpet alongside the table, meticulously hand-stitching a string of pink sequins onto a mask while Greta danced in circles around him, equally pink tutu swishing around her legs, a pair of slightly lopsided wings that consisted entirely of glitter, netting, and wire bouncing against her shoulders. Yuuri had forgotten that nylon didn’t exist in the alternate world yet, along with a number of other things that might have been handy for last minute costume-making.

“I’m a princess!” Greta declared mid-twirl.

“You were already a princess,” Yuuri said from his desk, where he was decidedly not doing any of his work.

“Yes, but now I’m a _fairy_ princess,” Greta corrected, striking a pose with one arm curled artfully over her head.

Yuuri chuckled and almost knocked a pile of permits off the desk corner. “My mistake.”

On the floor Wolf made a noise that might have been amused but was pretending very hard not to be. “Explain how this is supposed to work, again? Every time you try to bring over a new custom from Earth it’s stranger than the last.”

“This isn’t strange! Greta already understands how it works, don’t you?”

Greta danced over to face Wolfram, tiny heels clicking together, bouncing on her toes. “It’s simple, papa, I dress up in a fun and cute outfit and go through the neighborhood knocking on doors. When someone answers I say ‘trick or treat!’ and they give me candy.”

“That sounds unbelievably dangerous. Yuuri, did you think this through at all?”

“I did!” Yuuri huffed and flopped against the backrest of his chair. “That’s why she’s only going to trick-or-treat in the castle, right Greta?”

“That’s right! And after I get my candy, I’ll use the magic fairy dust Spirited Evening-kun that Anissina made for me to send my trick-or-treating victims on a peaceful trip to fairyland.” She produced a small vial of something powdered and sparkly from the bow tied around her waist.

“I think we should skip that part! Skip it!”


	37. soriku, ghost hunters part 2 (+roxas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> halloween fic for @antisocialfairy on tumblr

“They say the old mansion outside of Twilight Town is probably haunted… maybe.”

“CUT.”  Sora lowered the camera and dropped his head as far back as he could, groaning.

“What?  What’s wrong?”

“Riku, I didn’t think I’d have to prompt you for this after Pence gave his report.  Come on!  We’re about to encounter some actual ghosts!  On film!  Aren’t you excited?”

“I’d be more excited if Roxas hadn’t eaten the last Kit-kat.”

Somewhere off to the side Sora thought he heard a voice mutter _get rekd_ but he staunchly decided it was his imagination.  “If we get through this take I’ll buy you an entire bag of Kit-kats.”

“You’ll eat half of them!”

“That’s not the point!”

A hand grabbed the camera and pulled it down until Roxas’s face was taking up the entire frame, and it might have been pointless if Sora’s finger hadn’t bumped record at that precise moment.  “Look, if your boyfriend is too chicken I’ll go fight the ghost.”

“Roxas, I think you’ve had enough candy.  Also we’re not fighting the ghosts.”

“ _You_ might not be fighting them.  I’m going to.  Be right back.”

Sora nearly dropped the camera when Roxas abruptly let go and fumbled with it, righting the viewscreen just in time to record Roxas hopping over the locked front gate.  Riku was standing just to the side, barely visible in the frame, and bent down to turn and look directly into the camera.  “He’s gonna die.”

“He better not, I don’t have insurance for this gig.”


	38. killugon, interview with the vampire au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> halloween fic for @junecsea on tumblr
> 
> what is this even?? idk it seemed like a good idea at the time

Gon didn’t quite remember what had happened five minutes ago, or much at all before the throbbing in his head took over, an angry pulse of pain and fear that echoed the one in his chest.  Slowly, though, it was starting to fade.  Very slowly, and once it had faded enough for even the barest of thoughts to form in his head Gon wondered if he should be worried about that fading and the numbness that crept through his body in its wake.

He’d made a mistake–a minor one, but for a bounty hunter the most minor of errors could easily be your last.  Tracking Hisoka down had been hard enough, trying to catch him off guard even harder, and Gon wasn’t prepared for him to have backup.  He’d hoped that Hisoka would be satisfied with giving him the slip and disappearing back off the grid, leaving Gon to follow cold trails for another six months.

He hadn’t.

Gon coughed, feeling things move in his chest that probably shouldn’t, feeling an arm curled gently around his shoulders, a cold hand against his cheek.  He tried opening his eyes but his vision swam and he only caught a swatch of silver and a glint of blue before they slid closed again.  That’s right–the bartender, silver hair with an undercut and a sharp tongue, blue eyes that caught his and winked.  They’d only spoken briefly, and now Gon couldn’t really remember the exchange, except for the part where he’d jerked his chin towards the door just as Hisoka walked in, warning him.

“Shh,” the voice above him said, cold fingers soothing on his cheek.  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Gon tried to say something–ask what was happening, if the blur of silver above him had a name, anything, but the only sound that came out of him was a croak.  The hand on his cheek slid to his chin, holding his jaw shut.

“Don’t try to talk.  You’re dying.  Don’t worry, though.”  The mouth that brushed against his ear was ice cold, followed closely by something sharp against his neck that Gon thought for a panicked instant was a knife.

But what followed was breath and more words, frigid lips brushing against his skin.

“I’m going to give you the choice I never had.”


	39. haikyuu training arc shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> halloween fic for @xigheart on tumblr

“This isn’t going to work.”

“This is absolutely going to work.”

Kenma had his phone out already, and Kuroo wasn’t sure if he was ignoring them and playing a game or recording a video of Bokuto, currently somewhere underneath the small hastily rigged armature holding up a sheet.  Kuroo wasn’t sure what purpose the rigging was supposed to serve when the overall effect was no different from just throwing a sheet over himself.  Slightly taller, he supposed.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, because he was never not down for doing whatever ridiculous thing Bokuto thought of in the middle of the night midway through training camp.  “What do you need me to do?”

“Rattle these chains.”

“Alright.”

“Also I can’t see shit under here so get the doors for me.”

“Gotcha.”

They successfully navigated two hallways in this fashion, with Kenma trailing somewhere behind.  Maybe he was texting Akaashi, Kuroo considered about halfway down the hall he was pretty sure led to where Karasuno was bunking.  Maybe Kenma was texting the Chibi.  It wouldn’t be any fun if they had warning.

“Here,” Bokuto hissed from under the sheet, and Kuroo tried the door they stopped in front of.  Locked.  He tried it again, rattling the knob extra along with the chains wrapped around his wrists, dragging his nails over the surface for effect.

Kuroo darted to the side when the door started to open, leaving Bokuto to flail around under his sheet moaning “WoooOOOOOOooooOOOOoooooo” dramatically, and the door promptly slammed shut.

“It was Tsukishima,” Kenma said from somewhere behind Bokuto’s sheet.  “You failed.”


End file.
